


Two Seconds

by orphan_account



Series: Sunday Mornings [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional, I Tried, M/M, Pining, Pining Sherlock, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 13:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12109578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sunday morning, and Sherlock isn’t making tea. He’s pacing in the living room, counting his heartbeats because they are closer to each other than seconds, and he can’t stand the slowness of seconds anymore.





	Two Seconds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGlinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/gifts), [scarletmanuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/gifts), [Tikatikox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikatikox/gifts).



> This is now a serie! Yay! I could have called it "Emotionally throwing words at my computer and hoping for the best". Still not beta'd, still written in a ridiculously short amount of time, and oh my god this is really short.  
> I will write at least one more, and it is going to revolve around time, just like the first one and this ficlet :)  
> Hope you enjoy!

Sunday morning, and Sherlock isn’t making tea. He’s pacing in the living room, counting his heartbeats because they are closer to each other than seconds, and he can’t stand the slowness of seconds anymore. He knows his pulse is elevated, too elevated for a man waiting for his brother; he would deduce why if they were someone else’s heartbeats, but right now it feels like his own body is laughing at him.

 

He and Mycroft didn’t have time to speak much, because Mycroft had to take care of the mess that the almost crash has caused.

 

Sherlock is terrified.

Mycroft comes back today, and he is terrified.

 

He didn’t say it back yet, because… Why? He doesn’t know.

It still doesn’t feel real-

He could have lost him-

He was certain he had lost him-

Sometimes he dreams he’s dead-

Sherlock realizes his heartbeat increased even more, and he tries to take a deep breath, but it sounds more like the kind of breath you take before drowning.

 

He’s drowning.

It was coming, he knew it, but he isn’t ready.

 

What are you supposed to do when a love that lasted for the past thirty years is about to become real and concrete?

 

When this same love caused more pain and suffering than anyone should be willing to endure?

 

When you almost died because of it _and_ survived because of it?

 

You jump.

 

You jump, and you hope that you won’t crash.

 

_because it’s not the fall that kills you, Sherlock_

 

Sherlock looks at his hands; they’re shaking. This trembling mess isn’t him, but Mycroft always had the capacity to make every single one of his barriers crumble.  Sherlock isn’t ready but he knows that for _this_ he will never feel prepared. He can jump, because Mycroft did it first, one week ago, even if it was more due to the fear of dying than because he wanted to.

 

_when one minute and eighteen seconds feel like an eternity, what are thirty years?_  

 

The door opens, and Sherlock freezes. Mycroft is there, safe, _alive._

 

Thirty years to accept you desire someone you’re not supposed to want or to have.

 

One minute and eighteen seconds to hear his confession.

 

And only two seconds to cross the room and kiss him.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Don't scream at me. I promise Things will happen in the next one. :)


End file.
